Seal the Deal
by Foxieglove
Summary: On a casual trade-off with a weapons dealer, Neena Thurman hits a snag when the man demands something extra from one of their teammates. Rated M for innuendo and sexual encounters of the green kind.


"Look, I really don't understand why you're so nervous."

Domino glanced at the white-haired man walking beside her. There was nothing to tell of her agitation to the untrained eye. Her posture was straight and confident and her expression could chip marble just as easily as one of her automatic weapons, one of which she kept fingering at her hip self-consciously.

Crap. She usually never did that. It was a sign that she was indeed worried of some impending disaster. Though it was hard not to be, when the disaster in question was walking three steps behind and humming to himself. Mort's voice echoed eerily down the alley they turned into and Neena scowled, already on edge. "I do not see why we had to bring him along."

"Because Dominic told me he'd hang the kid from the nearest streetlamp if I left Mort with him and Fred again. It'll be fine - he's got enough experience with gangs to know when to keep his mouth shut," Pietro assured her.

"This isn't a gang, this is a weapons dealer. Not just any weapons dealer - he's got the best supply in New York. If Mort manages to fuck this up, I swear I will _skin him_."

"Skin who?" Mort piped up.

Neena wheeled on him so fast that he nearly stumbled back into a row of trashcans. "Kid, I'm warning you. If you have to come with us, you will touch nothing, say nothing and so help me god, you will stop singing that song!"

"I wasn't singing it! I was humming it!"

"That's even worse!" Neena yelled at him. "Because it sounds catchy and I don't know the words and it's stuck in my head now!"

"Oh, well why didn't you just say that?" Mortimer coughed to clear his throat. "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okaaaay, I sleep all night and I work all -"

Neena made a threatening gesture involving both her hands, slowly inching them towards Mort's throat. Pietro zipped in between them, wisely clapping a hand the kid's mouth. "Toad, stop singing about cross-dressing lumberjacks and behave yourself, or I will let Neena shoot at you. Got it?"

Mort nodded with a terrorized squeak; Neena had already brought her gun halfway out of its holster. Pietro let him go by inches, watching as the gun was slowly inserted back into place. Only once she'd let go did he allow Toad to walk freely behind them again, notably subdued.

"He's not going to mess up anything," Pietro promised her, keeping his voice low. "Just relax. You're calm. You're cool. You're going to go gun shopping. Yay!"

"Yes, Pietro. Gun shopping. With a guy who could use his whole arsenal on us if he doesn't like our initial offer," Neena said dryly and Pietro scowled.

Jed Falkyre was the area's top dog for illegal weapons sales and unfortunately the type who wanted to hear an offer before he told you how much the item was worth. If you went too low, you insulted him and he'd sell you nothing (though you were lucky if that was the worst thing that happened to you). Too high, and he made you pay the price you offered anyway.

It was a game of wills that Falkyre enjoyed himself rather too much at for Pietro's tastes. Of course Magneto could have easily set him straight, but if his father ever found out that he'd been having to bow and scrape to a flat-scanner, he'd never hear the end of it.

Neena had a good cause to be nervous, but if Mortimer hadn't been with them she would've been a lot more confident about the business venture. Not that she was afraid of the man; her infinite luck would be able to get them out of any scrape. It was merely the thought of him refusing to sell her the Intratec DC9 that she'd had her eye on for half a year that was upsetting.

Pietro made sure Neena's vanguard was in place before they approached the building - Toad on her left and himself on the right, both slightly one step behind her in case she needed to arm herself. The man who greeted them at the bottom of the stairs did not smile but simply looked at Neena. Apparently recognizing her, he wordlessly led them into the biggest section of underground rooms.

This was a good sign. Maybe. Pietro made sure to keep track of Mort, who was looking a little uneasy now that they were in mixed company. Heavily armed mixed company. Pietro couldn't really blame him for sidling a little closer.

Falkyre was busily cleaning an automatic weapon and barely even glanced up at her. Neena may have been a semi-regular customer, but that didn't mean he had very much respect for a woman in the trade.

"Ms. Thurman," he greeted, congenially enough. "I'm guessing word has reached you about the newer items I have acquired. Otherwise you would have perhaps waited until some of the lesser dealers had gotten a hold of the merchandise."

Neena bristled inwardly at the insinuation that she was cheap but smiled anyway. "You're the only dealer I can trust to have any quality in what you sell," she returned sweetly.

Falkyre grinned back and picked up a weapon, a little too fast for Pietro's liking. Mort actually cringed, but then straightened once he realized the man was only _showing_ the automatic rifle to Neena and not about to open fire on them.

The haggling began. Neena had it down to an art - she was the type to ask plenty of questions before offering a price. Falkyre realized he was going to have a hard time fleecing her once they finished with a Beretta model, but he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes kept drifting to the Intratec DC9 and lingering there.

It was the newest model he had, still banned in the US, and someone else had made him an offer earlier that day. A really bad offer. His body wasn't going to be found easily.

She picked out a Steyr M9, naming a price very close to the actual value and Jed put a hand over his mouth, fingering his thin moustache to hide his frown. At this rate she wouldn't hit below the mark on the Intratec, but she wouldn't go very high over it either.

A sudden nervous movement of one of her companions attracted his attention. His eyes landed on a green-skinned boy with dreadlocks who'd wandered over to another table loaded with knives.

Thurman had seemingly brought a very unprofessional entourage - the boy couldn't be older than nineteen. He looked hauntingly familiar.

Jed glanced back at Thurman, picking up on the question she'd asked about the gun. "Yes, yes, the trigger resistance in this model has been increased even though it still has the manual safety catches. I would certainly not wish to sell you a weapon that went off in your pocket," he said, sounding anything but sincere.

The deal closed swiftly; Ms. Thurman was getting impatient for the Intratec. She touched it reverently. Suddenly, as if a light bulb had gone off over his head, he remembered when and where he'd last seen the green boy.

His name was Marvin or Merton - Falkyre couldn't quite remember the name but he seldom forgot a face. Or in this particular case, a tongue. Before she could start to ask about the gun, he walked around the table, hands clasped behind his back and approached Mortimer.

Neena faltered and stared in naked alarm as she turned, just in time to see Mort pick up a knife. She could have killed him. You never touched any of Jed's merchandise unless you were committed to buy it - he was very particular about that rule.

"That's a double switchblade you've got," Jed said, nearly making Mortimer jump a mile out of his skin. "You are holding it like you're familiar with knives."

There was something in Jed's expression that was not at all familiar and Neena frowned as she noticed Mortimer's face changing as well, into one of recognition and horrified embarrassment. She looked furiously for Pietro and saw him standing at the wall, looking at a silver wolf's head walking-cane with a concealed sword. A hiss of his name and he turned around to take in the sight.

Neena was clutching a gun and glaring death at him (wasn't Pietro supposed to be _watching_ him?!), indicating Mort's dilemma with a jerk of her head. Mortimer put down the knife very slowly, not taking his eyes off Jed.

"How have you been, my young friend? It's been a while," the man asked, not mentioning the knife. He reached out, putting a gentle hand on Mort's shoulder. Neena's frown only got deeper. Something was not right here at all.

"Um. Hey. Yeah, I . . . I've been good," Mortimer swallowed in remembrance. His eyes flicked to Neena pleadingly and she raised her arms in bemusement, not sure what the hell he expected her to do about it. Belatedly Mort seemed to remember his manners. "H-How are you?" he squeaked out.

"Very good," Jed replied simply, lightly trailing his fingers down Mort's wiry bicep. He walked away and Pietro was at Mort's side instantaneously, gripping his upper arm and hissing questions. Mortimer didn't seem to be able to talk; he merely shook his head and refused to look up, red creeping into his face.

"I know you want that," Jed told her, indicating the nearly forsaken Intratec. "Name a price."

Neena bit the corner of her lip, confidence flying away. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but the stakes now seemed to be raised impossibly against her getting this gun. She made an offer a little higher than she'd been planning, and then held her breath.

Jed seemed to consider it. "I have a proposal. I'll take that offer, and maybe even knock off a couple hundred since you're planning on taking three items. You've given me good business tonight." Again he looked at Mort. "I shall do this in exchange for a certain service. Involving a certain member of your entourage. Provided, of course, he is willing."

Neena looked at Mortimer who was full-out blushing right now. She looked at Jed sharply. "Can we have a moment to talk?"

He nodded and gave a muffled yelp as she all but shoved the gun into his arms. Mort cringed down as her boots clacked across the concrete toward him and ducked his head.

"Mortimer, I am going to strangle you. Why in the hell didn't you think to mention that you knew him!?"

The kid scrunched his face up in embarrassment and babbled out something in a speed that almost impressed Pietro.

"What was that?"

"I didn't say anything because I didn't recognize him at first! B-Before I joined up with you guys, when I lived with the Thirteens, I d-did some things," Mort blurted out again. Neena scowled at the unhelpful statement, though annoyingly Pietro straightened back up. He looked as though he'd cottoned on pretty fast to what was going on. Of course he had.

"So you . . ." he started, looking surprised and a little bewildered. ". . . with the most renowned weapons dealer in New York?"

"No! We didn't do _that_ . . . We . . I just . . ." Mort was making all kinds of flustered gestures now and finally gave up to cover his face, moaning in humiliation. Neena took his wrists and pried them apart.

"Didn't. Do. What? I need you to tell me very quickly and very clearly what is going on here and what exactly he wants from you," Neena snapped at him.

Mortimer's shoulders slumped even further. "I have a six foot long tongue. Why don't you figure it out?" he retorted miserably, after several failed attempts to speak. Now Neena was sure she could feel heat radiating from his face. Which was saying a lot for a cold-blooded mutant.

After a long moment, in which her brain writhed in agony at the mental images of Falkyre getting laid, Neena let him go cautiously and straightened up. "I see," she said matter-of-factly. She wished very strongly for some kind of liquor to blur that out of her mind.

Mort apparently got the wrong impression and covered his face again. "I couldn't exactly get a job! And sometimes we needed the money - and mugging people isn't that steady an income because if you're too regular about it then you get a cop in the territory watching for it and I - I -"

"Mortimer, shhh. Rule one of living on the streets is you do what you have to do," Neena said. She was honestly surprised by the look on Mortimer's face as he raised his eyes to look at her.

"So . . . you don't think I'm totally disgusting? More than usual, I mean?"

Neena felt a pang of guilt. "No. I don't think you're disgusting. Neither of us think that." She nudged Pietro, who seemed very distracted by his thoughts, in the ribs. He snapped back to reality, murmuring agreement.

"And if you don't want to do this . . ." It took a struggle for her to finish the next sentence as she remembered the loving feel of the Intratec in her hands. "I'm not going to make you," she got out, expression pained. "Falkyre is a slimy worm. And it's . . . just a gun." Three guns. Three wonderful guns that she technically could live without. The anguish was clear on her face, as much as she tried to hide it.

Pietro sighed. "If you'll do it, I'm sure Neena will buy you the knife you were looking at. And any comic book you want for the rest of the year."

Mortimer hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I dunno. I'm . . . I'm kinda out of practice."

"Pshhh, hello? You have a six-foot long tongue. There's no such thing as out of practice."

"Yeah, but . . . well . . . I . . ."

"Come on, look at that face. _How_ can you deny this face?" Pietro asked, zipping over to Neena and squishing her cheeks together. She put her hand to her hip holster warningly, glaring more death at Pietro than seemed humanly possible.

Mortimer groaned. "Okay, alright, fine. I'll do it. Jeez." He stomped over to Falkyre. "You guys owe me a heck of a lot of gum," he called back to Neena over his shoulder as he followed Jed into the back room.

~~~~~~~~

Whatever Mort had done, he'd done it well; the man had ended up throwing the switchblade in for half-price. Mort played with it expertly in the front seat, chewing his fourteenth piece of Trident mint gum. Neena crawled into the back ahead of him, giggling and cradling three swaddled weapons against her chest like a proud mother. She was certainly glowing like one anyway.

For most of the ride home, nobody spoke. Then Fred popped the question.

"So, how'd everything go?"

Neena cleared her throat softly. Pietro coughed. Mort stuck another piece of gum in his mouth. "He tasted like beans," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Fred was confused.

"Nothing. It went fluidly - er, just fine," Pietro corrected himself, a little less than smoothly.

Mort made a horrible face at him and went back to snapping bubbles.


End file.
